


Feed the Wolf

by 221BFakerStreet



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Jacob doesn't like to share his toys, Manipulation, Marking, Mindfuck, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Praise Kink, Rook wants to be good, Staci has a crush, Watersports, and they're all going to pay for it later, everybody gets one, i am the Oprah of concerning and upsetting emotional attachments, marking territory, problematic af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 02:26:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14684505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221BFakerStreet/pseuds/221BFakerStreet
Summary: The hardest battles are fought in the mind. It takes you a week to realize the way Staci hovers near you whenever possible, how he glances at you like he's sizing you up for something more than a fight or your chances of completing Jacob's twisted training program. You wonder if Jacob has noticed, because not much escapes his attention. As laid back as he seems at times, he has a keen mind and a vested interest in keeping you isolated, keeping himself the center of your world.Rook spends some time in the cage, Staci covets what is beyond his means to have, and Jacob finally claims what he knows to be his.





	Feed the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags, please.  
> Enjoy my descent into the depths of Hell, I know I am.

Jacob Seed watches you in your cage. You learn his movements as best you can, how he speaks to certain people, how he speaks to _you_. He looks at you with hungry eyes. You notice more than you ever let on, and you see him look at Pratt the same way.

You're not… jealous, exactly. You just want Jacob’s eyes on _you_. That was important, you decided, but you’re not sure why or when you decided it. Maybe you _are_ jealous? Just a little. And you can admit that to yourself in the quiet press of darkness that surrounds you at night, the void eating up the stars.

The hardest battles are fought in the mind. It takes you a week to realize the way Staci hovers near you whenever possible, how he glances at you like he's sizing you up for something more than a fight or your chances of completing Jacob's twisted training program.

You wonder if Jacob has noticed, because not much escapes his attention. As laid back as he seems at times, he has a keen mind and a vested interest in keeping you isolated, keeping himself the center of your world.

It's difficult to think on the days when you don't get fed, and on those days, you find yourself lighting up like a Christmas tree when you catch sight of him, Staci always stumbling behind him like a well-trained dog. On those days, it's harder to keep your emotions in check. Jacob means food, means warmth, means human interaction, even, sometimes, _praise_. Good girls get _treats_ , you think, and curl your lip in disgust at how much you _want_ it.

And Jacob seems to _know_ somehow, like predators do. Maybe you're just being obvious, but it's admittedly difficult _not_ to be. After the day’s session, he comes down to the yard, to the cages. Walks toward you with easy purpose, Staci cowed in his shadow, but perking up at your presence. You are so very _tired_ , but he said it today, how _good_ you were. You know you need to approach him, and so you crawl.

A gentle grin splits his face, then, and he squats down to reach his hand in through the bars. You rest your check against his rough palm and let out a contented sigh. His thumb traces a quick line along your bottom lip and you let out a small gasp, so that it catches against your teeth. Your eyes close as shame burns through you, but you can taste the salt of his skin on your tongue, and your gasp turns into a soft moan before you can stop yourself. It just feels so _good_ to be touched like this after so long.

“Oh, _sweetheart_ ,” he says, his voice a low growl. It makes you shiver, makes sweat bead on your upper lip. You open your eyes, and you see him looking at you, gaze dark and lustful. The two of you exist for a moment inside a bubble comprised of your desperate need for his affection and his quiet but intense assessment of your face, the curve of your neck, the open neck of your shirt where you know he can see your breasts pressed into the cups of your too-small bra, a lacy red thing you scavenged from an abandoned house a few weeks ago. It was easier to wash the blood out.

Staci makes a noise like he's choking on air, and you freeze in place, a small whine falling from your lips. If Staci makes a scene, you think Jacob will leave, and you _really_ don't want him to. Your lips form a perfect o around Jacob’s thumb, your tongue licking the dirt and blood from the rough pad of his thumb. His attention is on you, now, laser-focused. You swallow and look right into his eyes. He presses down on your tongue with his thumb, and you let him part your lips ever so gently, still lapping like a starved kitten, hungry but weak. So _weak_.

He grips the hair at the back of your head and hauls you bodily toward the cage. The bars are just wide enough, and he licks into your mouth like he's taking ownership. You can feel the telltale wetness in your panties, thighs rubbing together in need of friction you can't quite find. Another desperate whine leaves you, and Jacob pulls away as you strain against the bars of your cage. Your terrible cage with nothing in it but thoughts you cannot fulfill, half-imagined feelings bereft of action. He cards his fingers gently through your hair.

“Next time, sweetheart,” he says, and he actually looks like he regrets it. You splay one hand against the cage, and he slides his own hand downward over it, past it, fingers brushing as he rises to continue his work.

When he leaves, you stare after him. For once you don't notice how Staci stays a little too long, watches you a little too intently as he finally departs.

* * *

It soon becomes apparent that Jacob has _noticed._

He spends an unusual amount of time in the yard with you. One time he even brings you out to spar. He's fed you better the last two weeks, and you've been able to keep up your strength. He's not gentle with you, sees no need to be, and you relish the opportunity to show him what you're made of. You each walk away with your fair share of bruises, but Staci (ever the shadow trailing the eldest Seed brother) always looks at you with deep concern.

“You're _strong_ ,” he tells you one time, gripping the bars of your cage, eyes bloodshot and shifting side to side. “Maybe stronger than _him_. Cull the weak, Rook.” He shakes the cage door a little too hard, and a guard starts to come over to see what's happening. Staci steps back, and nods at you like you've just finished some kind of business meeting, before he nervously makes his way back to his master. _Both_ of your master, really, because Staci is _wrong_. So terribly wrong, and you want to scream until your throat burns with it because you _know_ that you are not in control here, that you maybe never _were_.

The next time you see Staci, he has a shiner and a fat lip, and you don't even wince this time.

Jacob stalks into the yard, blue eyes drifting over the span of cages until they land on _you_ and he _grins_.

“Rook!” he barks, and you snap immediately to attention without further thought. He simply huffs a laugh as your face burns in embarrassment from your own reaction.

“Crawl,” he demands, and points at the area of the cage closest to where he's standing, right up against the bars. You risk a glance at Staci, see his wide, watery eyes and trembling lip. And you sink slowly onto your hands and knees.

You turn and look only at the point in the dirt to which Jacob has commanded you move. Your knees scrape the ground, dirt collecting on your already soiled jeans, but you make it there with relative ease. Once there, you don't quite know what to do with yourself. Jacob reaches his hand past the bars and, instead of grabbing a fistful of hair like you feared he might, he gently tousles it and says so quietly, “good girl.”

The contented whine you can't help but emit sends a jolt of shame and arousal straight to your cunt, clenching around nothing like a bitch in heat. You hear the telltale sound of a zipper, but you don't really understand until Jacob speaks again.

“Hey, Peaches. I told you to _look_.” There's a shuffling of fabric, and you can hear some of the guards whispering uncomfortably before there's silence again.  You hear it before you feel it, the rushing trickle like someone squeezing the contents of a water bottle. It's warm and wet, and it hits your hair, the side of your face. You close your eyes, try _not_ to rub your thighs together, but you fail.

“See?” Jacob asks as he continues to piss on you, now aiming at that pretty red bra. “She'll take whatever I give her, Peaches. Because she _belongs_ to me.”

You're panting now with the effort of not touching yourself. He's taken ownership, marked his territory, in a more primal way than a collar. And you think to yourself that this is what wolves do, that he _chose_ you. You sway closer to the side of your cage with the weight of this realization, and the stream of urine finally slows, stops.

You hear the door open, but don't move. There's a pained whimper somewhere off to your left, but it's far away, practically a different planet. Here and now, there is only the scent of your shame, your importance; you are wrapped in it like a blanket. You feel something soft nudge at your face, and you finally open your eyes to see Jacob's softened cock right in front of you. He doesn't even have to direct you, you know what to do: you lean forward, gripping at his burly thighs for stability, and swallow him down.

The acrid salt taste of him clears your senses, makes you _preen_ at the thought of what you've done to him, how _jealous_ he must have been watching Staci pine over you like a schoolgirl with a crush. The power, unbidden, which Jacob has so freely given you. And you will gladly give him _so much_ in return.

You will give him _everything_.


End file.
